Far From Angelic
by CircusBrat
Summary: "So, you're the infamous Batman?" The boy turned around to face Batman. "I was hoping we'd meet." He cackled. "The name's Diavol. And I think we're gonna get along bett!" AU - Demon!Robin / Demon!Dick Grayson/ Demon! Robin - NO OCS - Rated T for occasional cursing. - Prequel to (eventual) "Close to Demonic" -Also posted under Wattpad under "CircusBrat"
1. Chapter 1

**Far From Angelic**

* * *

Prologue: Those Five Years Ago

" _Five years ago… I met a shadow."_

Bruce, or rather, Batman, didn't enjoy 'supers' in his city. He barely allowed metas into his gates, and even then he would usually kick them out as soon as possible. Even if he was in dire need, he only resorted to supers is necessary. He wasn't stupid, he knew that sometimes supers could handle situations that Batman couldn't. Contrary to what Gotham believed him to be - the theories were enough to make Joker look sane - he was just a Human, trained by one of the best out there. He didn't have to keep up calories, have a secret stone glowing with green, or a shade of yellow. His weakness was being human. And already, that left tons of options to deal with him. He didn't hate supers, other than a certain Superman, but he realized not too long ago that without their super abilities, supers were just as human as an average citizen. Easy to break, easy to kill. He would rather be human, trained to his peak, than a super with strong powers and strong weaknesses. Powers come with weaknesses, but humans have found ways to fight off those. Batman would like to see Superman coming up with anti-kryptonite (although, Batman already had.) Supers were banned from his city, only allowed if deemed necessary. He didn't need another death tallied onto his board.

However, more than often, supervillains charged into his city. And once again, did Batman have to realize how much powers can still pack a punch even if they had weaknesses.

Batman drifted, screeching his Batmobile around the corner of West and Mary street. The car exhaust steamed, the tires leaving tracks on the burning street. He pressed his foot on the accelerator harder and the Batmobile roared with fast ferocity. Car Chases weren't uncommon for the Bat, but super-powered cars were. The new villain was named "Roar n' Kill," which gained him brownie points for the nearest cliche shop. Roar n' Kill's name was Tyler Dan Bartholomew, a rich hunter who stole plenty of mixtures from laboratories and bibles from churches. Batman planned to find out why someone like Bartholomew would steal the two opposite items. A hunter with a religious problem had been an idea, until he started stealing mixtures from Central City and drove over to Gotham. Batman wondered if the man had any brain in his mind to stay out of Gotham. He doubted it. The Batmobile screeched as its boosters in the back lit up with flames and it sped ahead, breaking the speed limit by miles. The midnight-car chase was lucky for Batman, most civilians in clubs and parties inside. Bartholomew's car - Tearin' he had dubbed it - was slowly losing speed, the propulsions wearing off from the earlier drift. Batman could hear the yelling of "No, No! Not now!" from Bartholomew, and he couldn't help but twitch his scowl upwards. The Tearin Car was forced to a stop at the edge of Wayne Enterprises, smoke billowing from its engine. The Batmobile steered forward as Batman landed out of his car. He strode over to the steaming engine and ripped the broken car door open.

"Bartholomew," he growled, tightening his grip on the 'villains' collar. He punched the yelping villain hard in the jaw, a satisfying 'CRACK!' echoing throughout the empty street. Bartholomew was shaking with fright, his arms spasming around. Batman brought Bartholomew's jacket collar forward and snarled in his ear. "Why were you stealing them?"

Bartholomew coughed and shuddered, only a light smile on his face. "Gotta' get rid' of em' pest an' ey' were the onl' way to get em' out of Got'am."

Batman narrowed his eyes and elbowed the villain in the gut. "What do you mean?"

"It en' you cit', Ba'man. It' hor'd sku'l, It' dar' magi'. Y'u shoul' know, Ba'man." Barthomewl was twisting and turning at this point, desperately trying to make an escape.

Batman grabbed Bartholomew's face and slammed his fist into it, before dropping the man onto the ground. Faint police sirens resonated across the building and Batman turned and jumped into his Batmobile. The accent made it difficult to figure out the words, but not impossible. Especially if he had recorded it. The Batmobile let out a screech before turning to Spring and Turner and heading towards an alleyway far from the scene.

The Batcave was filled with insisten typing on a keyboard, words echoing off the walls. Batman, now Bruce Wayne, continued to listen deep into Bartholomew's words while searching cameras of Gotham. Bruce had been able to deduce what Bartholomew had said, something with a 'horned skull' and 'dark magic.' Bruce had met plenty of villains with abilities in Gotham, but none made any sense or fitted the description of the 'pest.' The billionaire had plans to interrogate Bartholomew again, but he had a feeling that Bartholomew wasn't going to let anything slip again. To the added dilemma, Bruce Wayne was needed at Wayne Weapons at Wayne Enterprises. Wayne Weapons had transferred over a shipment of new scientific weapons concerning the onslaught of super villains. The company had gotten a sample of an alien weapon and constructed it forwards. The weapon was able to shoot a burst of levitation, allowing an item to float against gravity. Bruce Wayne was supposed to make an appearance to hand over the prototype weapon over to NASA so they could use it for future astronaut training.

"Master Bruce, what daresay are you doing?" Bruce stopped typing and turned to face Alfred.

Bruce muttered, "Work. Bartholomew is hunting for something, and I plan to figure it out."

Alfred looked at Bruce accusingly, walking over and placing decaf coffee at the desk of the Batcomputer. "Bruce Wayne must make an appearance tomorrow, if I recall correctly. The Batman's work will have to wait."

The billionaire sighed and drank the warm coffee, the liquid gently streaming down his throat. "You're right, Alfred." He paused, putting down his cup, accepting his defeat. 'If push comes to shove,' he though 'Batman will no doubt appear.' He stretched and walked up to the elevator with Alfred. 'Of course, defying Alfred won't get me anywhere, either.'

* * *

Bruce smiled as the flashes of cameras caressed his vision as he stepped out of his limousine. He waved with his facade of jovialness and continued to walk across the carpet towards the pedestal for his speech. Lucius Fox walked out behind him, mimicking his waving and smiling. It wasn't unusual to see Lucius and Bruce, after all, they worked together at Wayne Enterprises. Some people even called Lucius 'Lucius Wayne,' believing he might as well be apart of the Wayne family. Bruce shook hands with General Wilms and saluted him with honor. He stood up on the quartz pedestal and spoke into the microphone.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of Gotham City, Wayne Tech is proud to present our new advancement in technology!" Cue the obnoxious clapping, Bruce though. Flashes emitted and took in the exciting words of the playboy. "After refining our newest creations and working endless hours to protect our county, Wayne Tech has created a new weaponry to help the UN boost ahead in Space Investigation. We call this new machine -" Bruce was forced to stop as he heard people yelling in joy. "Project STAR! Space Travel and Research! And now, Wayne Tech is happy to hand it over to the Military for continuing its research to help our Earth discover more wonders of Space!" Bruce lightly grabbed the case and handed it over to the General before stepping away to let his speech begin.

Bruce looked over the extravagant city of Gotham, examining the glimmering tops of buildings and skyscrapers. The sun shined onto every creak and shadow, banning all darkness. However, Bruce spotted a lithe figure jumping from the roof of Wayne Enterprises and onto another, its form blurring with pall. Bruce narrowed his eyes for a split second, taking in the mental picture before grinning again at the paparazzi.

"... and I thank Bruce Wayne for the wonderful advancement! Thank you all! And gooday!"

General Wilms turned to shake hands with Bruce, and he obliged, posing for the pictures bound for the front page. As Bruce walked down to his limousine, his thoughts wavered to the inky figure from earlier, when his eyes widened with recognition.

'..It's horned skull and dark magic…'

* * *

Bruce raced downstairs to the Batcave, his eyebrows furrowing with realization. He turned on the computer and furiously scanned for the files of Bruce Wayne's speech from earlier. He located a picture from earlier and zoomed in on the suspicious character on the roof. The picture zoomed in carefully, managing to avoid pixely features to keep the image scotch less. The creature definitely had an aura of black and navy blue, with obvious horns sprouting from the top. However, the picture couldn't identify any obvious features, other than it was a boy, definitely no older than thirteen, running across the roof. With his eyes narrowed, he turned and slipped on his Batman outfit and pulled on his cowl. The Batman was curious, and Bats often get what they want.

He grabbed his utility belt and slipped into the shadows, beginning his search for the hybrid boy.

And he thought he had already dealt with all of the supers in his city.

* * *

He spotted movement. Batman stalked Gotham City near Wayne Enterprises, ontop of Jane and Oliver's Bank. The building was next to it, windows gleaming with expensive light fixtures. He had staked out here in hopes to see the boy appear again. And he had, as the boy had appeared onto Wayne Enterprises and sat on the glowing 'Y'. Batman shot his grappling hook and swung over to the roof. He silently walked up to behind the boy.

"So, you're the infamous Batman?" The boy turned around to face Batman. "I was hoping we'd meet." He cackled. "The name's Diavol. And I think we're gonna get along bettly!"

Batman stepped closer to the light, examining the boy. "Bettly?" Batman queried, hoping to stall incase the boy decided to run. The vibrant light of WAYNE shown upon the boy, but wisps of shadows slightly blurred it. Diavol had messy black hair and almost-pale skin. He was definitely thirteen, no older or younger. The boy wore a black jacket with a navy blue shirt and black jeans. He had one black and one royal blue horn sprouting lightly on his forehead. A tail wrapped around the boy's - Diavol's - body, was also black and blue. His eyes, however, were covered by the dark wisps.

Diavol nodded. "Yeah, you see, you know how in English 'better' means 'more good'?" Batman nodded slightly in acknowledgement. "So, bettly means 'more good' instead of just 'good.'"

"What are you?" Batman looked into Diavol's blurred eyes.

Diavol's tail swished pleasantly. "Mhm.. I'm a demon." The fact that Diavol had said it as casually as someone would say "It's Saturday" made Batman raise his eyebrow under his cowl. However, Batman knew not to underestimate the possibilities of afterlife creatures. Batman had seen many things like it.

"And you're Bruce Wayne." Batman narrowed his eyes as the Demon dropped down from the 'Y' and stood up. "Don't worry, Batsy, I won't tell."

Batman continued. "How can I be so sure?"

Diavol's tail swished again and he walked over to Batman and stood on his toes to face the man. He whispered, "You can't. I'm a demon, after all." The demon cackled playfully and flipped backwards onto the Y again.

"So many villains want to know your name… They'll strike any deal for it, it makes me jealous." The demon's tale crackled against the air, echoing off the building. The aura around the boy darkened dramatically before reverting back to its wispy form.

Batman reached into his utility belt under his cape and withdrew a batarang in secret. In his mind, he knew the attempt would be futile. He knew bits about demons, but not a lot. They weren't like Gotham's worse, with obvious weaknesses. He knew that some were smooth talkers. "What do you want?"

Diavol paused and tilted his head as if pondering that himself. "Hmm.. what do you offer? I'm kind of picky, y'know." He smirked.

Batman narrowed his eyes. "What's a demon doing in Gotham?"

Diavol froze, his aura darkening again. "That's not an offer, human." His tone was sharp as blade, but curious. Batman mentally smirked. The plan was working, somewhat.

"Demons can't just live in Gotham as they do in Hell, Demon. You'll need a place to stay." The vigilante slowly spoke, conveying the point across.

"I've been doing fine so far, human!" The demon hissed, the aura around him sharpening.

Batman took a step closer. "For how long? You'll need a place, a place to train freely. Gotham may be like Hell, but the people around here don't like demons. Espescially Barthomewl."

Batman felt an icy gust of wind blow around him just as a firey one did as well. The demon glowered, its eyes narrowed. "How do you know Barthomewl?"

The cape of Batman's fluttered against the wind. "The deal, demon. You keep my identity, you'll stay with me. I'll share my resources, you don't damage my city." When he saw Diavol's tail crack again, he continued. "I know what demons are made of, Diavol. And I know you love to strike a deal."

The wind stopped and the aura around the demon dropped. An eerie cackle emmitted across the roof. "You strike a hard bargain, human. But fine." The demon extended his hand, a midnight black fire smoking around it. "Let's shake on it, Batsy."

Batman walked forward and took a deep breath before gripping the demon's hand. The aura around him darkened dramatically, and all he saw for a few seconds were the demon's eyes. The eyes were a vibrant blue and swirled into a purple and then into a redish black. A demon's eyes.

If Batman had knew that this demon would change his life forever, he would've done it sooner.


	2. Intermission 1

**Far From Angelic**

* * *

Intermission/ Short One: Demon Call

" _Dick Grayson..."_

"I find human names weird!" Diavol swung carelessly on the chandeleir, his tail wavering dangerously near the light. Bruce was twitching with annoyance. The demon had managed to stay for a week and already had come with plenty of close calls to breaking the antiques. Bruce knew that Demons were slightly destructive, (the understatement of the year) but he thought that they had control over that. He found out, they did not. Especially ones still in training, he mused. Diavol wouldn't give anything else about himself other than he was a demon. He didn't say what type or any of his backstory. Which, led to Bruce being a little bit frustrated. Since Diavol would be staying in the Wayne Manor, they would need to come up with a whole new 'persona' so that Diavol would be able to live in Gotham freely. The problem? Diavol didn't legally exsist. There were no birth records, no certificates, nothing. But he didn't expect anything less, he was a demon, after all.

"You need one if you're going to stay with me." Bruce commented idly, staring at the boy's obvious athletics.

The demon pouted and curled around the chandeleir like a cat, the tail swinging angrily. "I still don't see why Diavol is such a bad name."

Bruce pointed out. "Your name means 'Demon.' People don't name their children 'Demon.'"

Diavol's aura darkened in annoyance. "But…"

"We made a deal, follow the policies."

The darkness around Diavol sharpened to an almost blinding darkness. Diavol hissed. "I know about deals, human!" His tail crackled. "I'm a demon, for damn sake!"

Bruce glared at Diavol. "Don't swear."

SMASH! The lights disappeared and the glass slammed into the ground. The windows' light turned black, and the sound of the chandeleir falling resonated across the room. An eerie cackle with an angry tone echoed across the room. A soft hiss came from his right and Bruce jumped away from the couch as he heard a tearing sound against the couch. He dug his hand into his own pocket and brought out a small flashlight and quickly turned it on. Multicolored-eyes met his own as he narrowly sidestepped an incoming punch. The only thing visible were Diavol's eyes as the two fought in darkness. Bruce delivered a palm-heel into Diavol's eyes and kicked out at the substance in front of him. The substance disintegrated before becoming solid again and launching at Bruce. The vigilante grabbed the somehwhat-solid arm of the figure and twisted it behind Diavol's back. Diavol screamed and squirmed before Bruce brought him down into a pinned position.

"Fine, Fine! I'll choose a da- er, a darn name! Now let me go!" Diavol squirmed as he argued with Bruce. 'Potential' Bruce thought. "It'll be Richard, darnit! Let me go!" The lights in the room slowly brightened and reveal a trashed couch and a fallen chandelier. Bruce stood up, letting go of Diavol. Bruce caught the punch that was directed at him. Diavol pouted and his tail crackled before he relaxed his hand. "Richard 'Dick' Grayson-Wayne."

Bruce looked at Dick again. "Fix the couch."

Dickl sighed and pouted again before waving his hand at the couch. The couch turned a deep blue before reverting back to a flawless state, as did the chandeleir.

"You could always buy a new one…" muttered Dick, kicking his feet at the ground.

Bruce shook his head and sighed. This demon thing needed to get under control.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter One: A Demon's Youth

"What do you mean I have to be eight?!"

Dick stared at Bruce in shock. His tail whipped around furiously and his horns were emitting a navy blue dust. "What do you mean I have to be eight!" Dick stood up from his navy blue chair and continued to look at the vigilante in disgust. The Batcave was eerie in the night, the emptiness creating a constant echo in the cave. Bruce sat in the chair of the Batcomputer and glanced over at Dick.

"Yes. Eight. Your cover says that your family were murdered when you were eight."

Dick furrowed his eyebrows and his tail swished around in confusion. "That still doesn't say why I have to be eight…" Dick was perfectly capable of becoming an eight-year old, it wasn't hard. But the fact that he had to, just made it more infuriating. Plus, why would Bruce Wayne of all people adopt an eight year old? It didn't make sense to the demon, not that much in the human world did. Why make English so difficult, was one.

"It makes it more likely for you to be accepted into society. After all, an eight year old witnessing the murder of his parents would be a pitiful sob story." Bruce responded, turning to face the thirteen demon. Dick pouted, sitting back into his chair. Sometimes, he wondered why he even made the deal with the human. He's peculiar.. That's why. Dick sighed and the dust stopped fuming from his horns and his tail swished around.

"We'll have to do something about those, too."

Dick's tail lashed out at the nearby equipment and pulled down a chair. "I'm a demon. I'm not getting rid of the horns and the tail. I would look stupid."

"You would look human." Bruce countered. Dick growled and his tail crackled again, before Dick sighed. Bruce smirked in triumphantly and turned to face the computer. Dick turned around and held his tail in his hand. At that very second, an alert blared on the vibrant screen of the Batcomputer. The Batman insignia showed on the screen, with the words 'BARTHOLOMEW' under it. Dick's teeth clenched and a dark aura appeared around him. Bruce looked over at Dick.

"Get dressed. Robin is making his debut." Dick whooped, his personality changing with those simply words. To others, Robin may seem like a stupid name. But he liked the name. The bird 'Robin' always intrigued him. Their eggs were such a bright shade of blue that was against the usual white color of eggs. Dick simply liked their color; and the fact that they were different, too.

"Make sure to be eight years old." Cue the Bat ruining his day.

"What, why?" Dick was on the verge of just blowing up the place (not really, of course. The Alfred person was actually really nice, and he'd prefer if he didn't get blown up.)

"Future purposes." Was all the answer Dick was getting, he knew. Dick sighed and waved his arm and a short 'POP!' sound later, Dick was gone and in his place was an eight year old. His hair was still black for sure, but his eyes were covered with a domino mask and he wore a red shirt (with Kevlar, of course… even though it wouldn't affect him too much) and yellow 'tights', with a yellow cape. Bruce - now Batman - raised an eyebrow at the outfit.

Robin blushed and kicked his feet. "You were the one to say "be eight years old.""

Gotham was one of the most extravagant human civilizations Robin had ever seen. The way the buildings sparkle with dazzling diamond encrusted walls, ruby lined windows, and quartz filled floors always amazed Robin at their rich capabilities. Yet, he loved the darkness that fell over the city with villains, the demon part of him slightly loving the evil that delved in the alleyways. He looked over at Batman who discreetly nodded before he shot out his grappling hook and flying towards Wayne Enterprises. Robin couldn't help but cackle as the rush of excitement filled his skin. The ironic part was Bartholomew was attempting to enter Wayne Enterprises for Project STAR's sister weapon, Project STELLA (Space Technology E-Friendly Longer Life Advancement.) STELLA was an alien based weaponry that was able to quickly heal organic materials in space or on Earth. However, it required many alien based liquids to create the weapon, which was in unstable condition. And Robin knew that was exactly what Bartholomew was after. Bartholomew had thought that Diavol was an alien and sought out to kill him, even going out to stealing to end him. For whatever the reason, Diavol thought of him as boring and wanted to get rid of him. But, he knew that Batman didn't condone killing… which was quite sad, in Robin - or should he say Diavol's case

Robin followed Batman into Bruce Wayne's office, the window behind them missing a circle of glass. It doesn't matter, Robin thought. Bruce Wayne could just pay for it all over again. It's not like they could charge Batman, anyways. The hallway to the Lab were quartz filled, black rimming indicating the direction of the lab. The soon-to-be Dynamic Duo slipped into the shadows and opened the door to the lab. There stood Bartholomew, standing greedily over the mixtures with his costume of a motorcyclist. Robin glanced over at Batman, who nodded. They had quickly discussed their plan earlier. Robin makes an appearance, gets Bartholomew's attention, and Batman knocks him out. Simple. For humans, at least. Honestly, Diavol would love to toy around, making Bartholomew jump in fear (and die… hopefully.) But he stuck with the plan - they had a deal.

Robin cackled eeringly and stepped into the light, the noise resonating off the walls. Bartholomew stopped and turned to face the young vigilante. Bartholomew smirked and chuckled deeply. "They sen' a ki' to stop me? Heh, got'a give cred'it to them for not trippi'n the alarm, 'oe."

Robin wrinkled his nose in disgust, and spoke with a voice of an eight year old. "I would usually take credit, but coming from you, that'd be downright embarrassing!" Robin quickly took a birdarang out of his pocket, and felt a small swell of pride for the comeback.

Bartholomew snarled and he got out a knife. "Look, I 'ont usually hurt little ki's like you, but you shoul' know not to play with 'a big guys."

"He doesn't have to." Bartholomew was slammed into the ground with a tough CRACK from a gloved fist. The villain yelped as his head made in contact with the ground, the mixtures spilling onto the ground. Robin, under his mask, rolled his eyes. The dude was a clutz, he was surprised he even came so far. Batman grabbed the man's arms and twisted them behind his back. "Why are you after the chemicals, Bartholomew?"

Bartholomew snarled, obviously less afraid than the first time. His accent suddenly perished. "If you knew, you'd be thanking me." Bartholomew kicked out at Batman, and he was forced to step backwards. Bartholomew yanked out his hands and grabbed the nearby remains of the mixture. "That little pest kills, Batman! It tortures, It curses, it goddamn is against the living! If anything, you should be helping ME! THAT LITTLE BASTARD IS-" Bartholomew screamed as he clutched his head, and he suddenly fell to his knees. Robin smirked from under his mask, a dark mist forming around his hand. Batman looked over at Robin and growled, obviously not enjoying the mental torture.

Robin looked down shamelessly before waving his hand and Bartholomew collapsed, as Robin's hand flickered from a black mist to a solid human hand. Robin felt a flush of embarrasment catch up to him as Batman motioned for him to escape with the new found circle in the wall. Robin shuffled towards the circle and grappled out, the rush fading away.

"What were you thinking?"

Dick growled as his tail lashed out against the punching bag, curling around it with suffocating strength. "He deserved it. What right does HE have for-"

Bruce pulled off his cowl, his eyes burning with emotion. "He's human, Diavlo -" Dick flinched at the demon name, the aura around himself flickering to life - "Dick. His mind can't take too much." Bruce paused, talking under a whisper.

Dick hissed and yanked the punching bag to the ground, a sickening tearing sound emitting from the bag. Demons were sterotyped as horrible, life-hating creatures. He coud tell you that all of that was true. Dick had tortured. Dick had cursed - No. Dick hadn't done any of those things. Diavol had. And that was who he was, even if it wasn't apparent enough. The aura around Dick darkened, his horns now steaming with blue dust and his tail was crackling against the air. Humans were always his least favorite, he had wished all of them to just go away. They always thought of themselves high and mighty, above all with their 'intelligence.' Puh-lease. Dick could tell you any millenia that humans were the most naive creatures in the galaxies. And he hated it. If only the rest had saw how humans treated DEMONS, then maybe he wouldn't make circuses long and bitter. But for now, demons had been resorted to making deals, torturing, and hiding among them to give the leg-walkers what they deserved.

"Humans are sickening creatures, Wayne. Now, future, past, forever. They all deserve to die." His silvertongue seething with hatred, his aura turning a sharpened red. "And you make no exception."

The demon turned and disintegrated into smokiness before heading to his room, knowing full well that rest could help simmer his mind.

Demons don't have dreams. Since demons usually don't sleep, they don't have dreams. Instead, the float inside their subconscious and drift through memories. Demons also have the ability to contact the real world using a ghost-like substance while dreaming. Advanced, Trained Demons can do much more, like fight while being intangible. Inside their minds, they can control anything as long as it was inside their mind. Of course, Dick knew this. He was a demon, after all. Dick drifted through the endless scenes of memories, the good and the bad. He felt a rush of emotion if he looked at one. And so, snapping his fingers to create a couch, Dick stared at the memories rushing in.

Diavol - the name 'Dick' not exsisting in this memory - cackled at the begging figure at his feet. Diavol crouched down at the pale-white human, his horns spiked flawlessly, his tail whipping around dangerously. "Oh hello little human!" Diavol cooed, and cackled maniacally. The woman was shaking with fright, strangled noises emitting in her throat. "You see, Janette, I was a bit… bored this evening. I'm sure your husband won't mind if I… play around for a bit…" Diavol grabbed the woman's arm viciously and threw her into the wall. Her mute screams made Diavol's tail crackle with pleasure. The aura around Diavol darkened as his eyes brightened against the pall. "You see… I don't like short and sweet…" Diavol stood close to the sweating woman, his nose barely touching hers. "I like long and bitter… circuses that don't end!" He cackled loudly and flipped backwards before waving his hand, now glimmering with a red and royal blue. "This is a game I call Omori!" He laughed loudly as the woman's screams were now echoing across the empty room. The woman clutched her head and yelled in agony, twisting and turning with tears streaming down her cheek. The demon kneeled down beside the pained woman and his silvertongue spoke. "If only you wouldn't have sent your dear husband away…" He clicked his tongue. "Playing with three is much more fun." Diavlo's eyes glowed, burning the woman's now-open eyes with fright. She screamed again, and Diavlo heard a faint siren in the distance. Diavlo stood up, his black messy hair matted with light blood. With one quick wave of his hand, his body turned into a smoky-substance as the woman, Janette was rocking herself with the hellbent insanity. A demonic torture that young demons would play with. Diavlo wasn't insane… it was just part of his evil, hellish creature.

Dick felt himself shiver with pleasure at the memory, a quarter of his mind revolted by his obvious happiness. He was just a young demon, after all. He wanted to have fun when he could.


End file.
